


Princess Alianora Doesn’t Grow Violets (except euphemistically)

by KZSD25



Category: Enchanted Forest Chronicles - Patricia Wrede
Genre: Alianora is pining the whole book, F/F, and Cimorene is the most oblivious demi, but also a lot of queer rep and support, various degrees of homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-04-21 19:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22108828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KZSD25/pseuds/KZSD25
Summary: At twelve years old, Princess Alianora of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh knew herself. She was a princess, even if she wasn’t a very satisfactory one, and being a princess came with a certain sort of knowing. When she told her parents, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn't going to marry a prince, they nodded in understanding and kindly asked why.“Because I’m going to marry a princess,” Alianora said, puffing up with a surety only afforded to children.--Alianora is very gay. Cimorene is very dense.
Relationships: Alianora/Cimorene (Enchanted Forest)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

At twelve years old, Princess Alianora of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh knew herself. She was a princess, even if she wasn’t a very satisfactory one, and being a princess came with a certain sort of knowing. When she told her parents, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t going to marry a prince, they nodded in understanding and kindly asked why.

“Because I’m going to marry a princess,” Alianora said, puffing up with a surety only afforded to children.

Her father smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling, and her mother wrapped Alianora up in one of her encompassing bear hugs.

Aunt Ermintrude clucked her tongue and said, “Well at least she knows her own mind,” but her expression was pleased. “Of course, it will make it more difficult to find a proper suitor,” she added. “But, I suppose, all in good time.”

* * *

On her next birthday, when most of the extended family came to visit, Uncle Phillip clapped Alianora on her shoulder while his husband, Ser Rose, talked about the fair maidens of the nearby kingdoms and their potential economic and political benefits if joined with the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh. Aunt Morgan give her a sly smile and passed along a gift: a book wrapped in brown butcher paper. When Alianora had carefully removed the paper (proper princesses never tore into their presents), the cover was revealed to be an illustration of a fire-haired lady knight carrying a raven princess in her arms.

“For your new library collection,” Aunt Morgan said with a wink before whisking away to torment Uncle Arthur and his new paramour.

Later, Alianora overheard Aunt Ermintrude talking to one of her fairy friends about which sorts of enchantments would be best to draw in adventuring noblewomen.

“Sleeping enchantments have been a staple for centuries, but they’ve been banned in a few countries—on grounds of conscientious approval, or something of the like.”

By the drinks table, a group of her older cousins were in hot dispute about witches falling in love with their wards and the possible upshots of finding a morally gray (although young) witch to kidnap Alianora.

“If any princes come looking for your hand,” her cousin Lance, who was only a couple years her senior and spent more time at jousting tournaments looking at his opponents seats than unseating them from their horses, said, “then send them my way.” He grinned charmingly. “And I’ll send any princesses over to you.” Lance was one of Alianora’s favorite cousins, partly because he was near her age and lived close by, but mostly because of pacts like this. Their longest standing pact dated to the Winter’s Feast after she’d turned five, when they’d agreed to always share their holiday oranges with each other.

“It’s a deal,” Alianora said with her own grin as she shook his hand.

* * *

Being kidnapped by a dragon, Alianora reflected, was probably not the worst scheme her Aunt Ermintrude could have thought of. The complex of caves were warm and dry, and if one could get over the pervasive, lingering smell of soot, almost as comfortable as her castle back home. The cave assigned to her was especially lovely, filled as it was with the leftovers of kidnapped princesses before her. A tapestry of the various flowers, herbs, and birds of the Mountains of Morning took up most of one wall. It and the plush rug on the floor gave the cave an altogether cozy atmosphere. The bed was sizeable, the wardrobe fit her array of gowns (both formal and practical), and there was even a small bookshelf for her to arrange her books on. She’d only taken a small selection from her library at home—her absolute favorites—since she had to fit everything in one (albeit slightly enchanted) suitcase.

Even Woraug, the dragon to whom she was a princess to, was all right. After a fashion. He wasn’t what one would call friendly, and if she were being honest, Alianora was a little scared of him. But he only interacted with her to inform her of her duties and his schedule and otherwise ignored her. There were a few hiccups of course, like Alianora’s inability to cook anything more involved than pasta, but Woraug just rumbled and let it be. It was, altogether, a stiltedly formal relationship. Alianora didn’t mind that. She was largely left alone to clean and organize and keep to herself. A little boring, but Alianora found small ways to enjoy her solitude in Woraug’s caves.

Primary of which was investigating his library. It was much larger than the official library of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh, although quite a lot messier. It mostly held thick tomes on history (draconic, human, dwarven, wizardly, and otherwise), magic, geography, music, and politics. All thoroughly non-fiction. There was a small section of fiction books haphazardly tucked in a corner, but after looking them over, Alianora found only a couple she was interested in reading. Stories of men doing brave and adventurous things had never really appealed to her.

* * *

It was relatively early in her placid captivity when Alianora overheard Woraug mention offhand that the dragon Gornul had captured his own princess. Alianora grew excited. Finally, someone to talk to! There were, of course, other princesses belonging to other dragons, but they lived on the opposite side of the mountains. She’d either have to spend the whole day hiking around the mountains to get to them or ask Woraug to fly her there. Neither were options Alianora was about to take. But Gornul’s caves were relatively close to Woraug’s, so Alianora waited a week and a half (it was proper to give the princess time to settle in and grow accustomed to her new life), then went over to visit. She got lost twice and had to double back several chambers, but she eventually found her way.

Princess Keredwel reminded Alianora of a princess she had met once at her cousin Francesca’s debutante ball. Proud as a peacock, Francesca had said of the princess, and Alianora thought the description fit Keredwel quite well. If peacocks were exceptionally blond.

Keredwel led Alianora to the kitchen where she invited Alianora to sit at the table, brewed tea, and passed a fruit-patterned china cup to Alianora. Alianora noticed Keredwel daintily sipped her tea with a pinky extended, as a proper princess should. Alianora subtly adjusted her hold on her teacup to mimic Keredwel.

“My dear, just _how_ long have you been captive of the dread dragon Woraug?” Keredwel said. Her voice was airy and musical. A practiced thing, Alianora decided.

“A little under three months,” Alianora said. “It’s been better than I expected, and—”

“Really?” Keredwel cut her off. “Oh, but that’s simply _dreadful_. And how many princes have tried their sword against the monstrous dragon?”

“None,” Alianora said. “But I don’t expect a prince, anyway. When it was arranged for me to be kidnapped, my parents put out the advertisement that I’d been taken by the dragon Woraug and that female knights were preferred.” She smiled and took another sip. The tea was prepared perfectly, even if raspberry wasn’t Alianora’s favorite flavor.

“F-female knights?” Keredwel repeated, her voice briefly losing its affectation. She regained herself a moment later. “My dear Princess Alianora, it’s not _proper_ for a princess to be rescued by a _female_ knight. Princesses are to be rescued by _princes_, or noble knights with especially pure hearts.”

“But I don’t want to be rescued by a prince,” Alianora explained. “If a prince tries and rescues me, he’ll expect to marry me when I cannot marry him.”

“Why ever not?” Keredwel said, voice pitched in surprise.

“Because I’m to marry a princess,” Alianora said. “Or, at the very least, a noblewoman,” she added as an afterthought. She wouldn’t much mind marrying below her station, if it meant she married for love. Aunt Ermintrude might make a fuss, but she rather thought her parents would be happy for her.

“But—” Keredwel seemed to be at a loss for words, elegantly crafted brows furrowed in confusion. Then her face grew stony. Alianora began to consider something she’d never had to consider before. “Princesses cannot marry other princesses. _It’s not proper_,” Keredwel said, in a tone that said the matter was closed.

The visit was made short after that. Keredwel commanded the conversation and Alianora let her, listening courteously. Alianora left as soon as was polite, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

* * *

The dragon Zareth captured and brought back the Princess Hallanna a week later. Keredwel appeared at Woraug’s caverns after the appropriate time to collect Alianora. Together they went to greet their new neighbor. Alianora hadn’t visited Keredwel since their first meeting, although Keredwel hadn’t made the effort to come to visit her, either. Alianora didn’t know what to think of that, or of the strange feeling the meeting had left her with. Keredwel kept up a light, one-princess conversation the whole way to Zareth’s caves. With Karedwel leading, they were lost for a half-hour until Alianora politely suggested they go left at the junction a few turns back, after which they arrived in short order.

“We have made the perilous journey through the tunnels to see the Princess Hallanna, newly come to these caverns, to comfort her and together bemoan our sad and sorry fates,” Keredwel said when they finally reached the caves. The speech sounded scripted, and Alianora wondered if Keredwel had practiced it in the mirror.

“I am Princess Hallanna,” the new princess said, dipping into a curtsey, “of the Kingdom of Poranbuth. Princess to the dragon Zareth.”

“I am the Princess Keredwel of the Kingdom of Raxwel, now captive of the dread dragon Gornul,” Keredwel said, also curtsying. Alianora opened her mouth to give her name and title, but Keredwel beat her to it. “This is the Princess Alianora of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh, now prisoner of the dread dragon Woraug.” Alianora curtsied, mildly annoyed Keredwel hadn’t let her speak.

“Welcome, Princess Keredwel, Princess Alianora,” Hallanna said. She tipped her head at each of them in turn when she said their names. Then she let them in and took them to the kitchen for tea and cakes.

Hallanna was demure and had the kind of shy smile that drew people in. Alianora decided she would give a better first impression than she had with Keredwel. It would be nice to get along with at least one of the other nearby princesses.

Between Keredwel and Hallanna, the conversation went smoothly over a pot of saffron tea (also not Alianora’s favorite, but it was more than made up for with the small squares of carrot cake). Since they had only been kidnapped a few weeks apart, Hallanna hadn’t much new news Keredwel didn’t already know. Instead, they gossiped about kingdoms and princes they had common knowledge of, bemoaned the tragedy of the Southern trend toward a rising hemline, and tittered over the new products with which to style one’s hair. Alianora nodded along, although wasn’t able to get much more than a word in between them. Not that she didn’t try.

“I simply cannot wait until the first prince comes to challenge the dread dragon Gornul,” Keredwel said, sitting back a little and fanning herself. “Although, for propriety’s sake, I do so hope he doesn’t actually defeat the dragon.”

“Oh, yes,” Hallanna said. “It would look quite foolish to be rescued by your first prince.”

“Why?” Alianora asked, this time determined to say a full sentence. “Wouldn’t it be nicer to be rescued as soon as possible?” She thought about Woraug. Although being his princess was fairly all right, she’d much prefer to be away with some beautiful, brave lady then spend more time with the dragon than she had to.

“Certainly not,” Keredwel said, as if affronted by the very idea. “If the dragon is defeated by the first prince, then that dragon is clearly weak. To be seen as kidnapped by a weak dragon would be disastrous.” Hallanna nodded, and Keredwel continued, “Much better to taken by a dragon strong enough to defeat five, or even ten knights before succumbing to a worthy blade.”

Alianora considered that. “I don’t think I can afford such posturing,” she said, idly stirring her tea. “There’ll not be enough female knights for Woraug to prove his strength against before one finally defeats him.” She was under no illusions; she knew female knights were rarer than their male counterparts.

“Female knights?” Hallanna asked.

“Princess Alianora,” Keredwel cut in swiftly, “grows violets.” Something in her voice suggested that it was a euphemism and not a wholly inaccurate statement about Alianora’s nonexistent gardening habits. Alianora was thoroughly confused. Hallanna looked just as out of the loop. “Under Carmilla’s thrall,” Keredwel continued. Her lips were drawn in a tight line. _That _one Alianora could deduce. It seemed a reference from one of the books she’d gotten for Winter’s Feast last year. Her ears burned with misplaced embarrassment, and the sinking feeling returned to her stomach.

“Oh,” Hallanna said, as if realizing something quite awful. She glanced at Alianora, her expression akin to pity, only somehow twisted.

“Indeed,” Keredwel took a sip of tea and promptly changed topics.

Alianora kept quiet for the rest of the visit, her head full of uneasy thoughts. When Keredwel had finally run out of things to say, she stood up. Alianora took the opportunity, glad to be departing shortly. Keredwel offered goodbyes for both herself and Alianora. Alianora expected Keredwel to leave without her, but apparently propriety overruled whatever personal prejudices Keredwel might have. Keredwel escorted her all the way back to Woraug’s caves, talking about the weather and other nothing topics, then bid farewell in a falsely cheerful voice before disappearing down the tunnels.

* * *

The three princesses met, perhaps, once a month. Alianora got the feeling Keredwel only invited her because it was the proper thing to do. And because Keredwel didn’t want to talk with Hallanna on her own. Neither princess appeared to like Alianora much (the feeling was mutual), but it seemed they would both rather her be there than not. Alianora went because it was something to do. She might not enjoy their company, but Alianora did get bored cleaning Woraug’s second treasure chamber and sorting through his library. Even though she loved her books and the quiet, sometimes she didn’t feel much up to reading and craved socialization—even the insipid sort.

After the gaffes Alianora had made on their respective first visits, the following meetings progressed without too much incident, so long as no one minded Keredwel speaking for hours at a time. Or made Hallanna cry by disagreeing with whatever opinion she expressed. (The first time it had happened, Keredwel had shut up so quickly her teeth clacked together. It took twenty minutes for Hallanna to calm down enough, hiccupping softly behind a handkerchief, for the conversation to continue on with a different subject.)

Furthermore, the other princesses had semi-regular visits from hopeful princes (although none had been successful in defeating either dragon so far), so they were Alianora’s only source of news about the world outside the Mountains of Morning. The post service, apparently, didn’t deliver to dragon caves.

Alianora had only had one knight, and he hadn’t been female. His armor had been well-polished, though. She’d explained her situation and asked if he knew of any female knights who would be interested in defeating a dragon. She also remembered her pact with Lance all those years ago, and she told the prince that if he was so inclined, to seek out Lance, Lord-apparent of the Duchy Mere.

The prince had frowned deeply, said that princesses were meant to be rescued by a prince, but had left without challenging Woraug.

Alianora had watched him go until he disappeared around a bend, then stood at the mouth of the cave for a while after, lost in disquieting thoughts.

“Female knights,” Woraug had sneered, suddenly appearing from behind Alianora, startling her. “Absurd.” Alianora had plastered herself against the wall, holding her breath as Woraug trundled past.

* * *

The second prince to come calling was much more difficult than the first. He simply refused to leave. Alianora tried to explain to him that she would not marry him—could not marry him—and that fighting Woraug was an exercise in futility.

“Princesses taken by dragons are meant to be rescued by a prince,” he said, echoing the first prince. His voice was irritated, quickly escalating into anger, even as it was muffled by his lowered visor. His unsheathed great sword was held in a firm, two-handed grip. He looked ready to swing it at any moment. Alianora was a little afraid of him.

“I’ll not marry you, even if you do manage to defeat Woraug,” Alianora said again, trying to convey as much authority as possible. She didn’t think it worked well enough. She wondered how many princes would mistakenly come to Woraug’s caves, how often she’d have to repeat her requisites. She was suddenly exhausted at the idea. “You would do better to return home and advertise that the princess of the dragon Woraug welcomes only _female knights_ for her rescue.”

There was a clattering creak of armor as the prince stiffened. Alianora could see his hands tighten on the hilt of his sword. She took a careful step back.

“It’s not possible for a princess to be rescued by another _girl_,” his words were incredulous. “I will fight the dragon and claim my prize.” Godsdammit, princes could be so thick sometimes!

“No—” Alianora started at it again, that she _would not, could not marry him_, when a rumbling roar sounded behind her. She jumped away as Woraug appeared, lugging his huge weight behind him. His mouth was open in a facsimile of a smile, showing off each and every one of his sharp teeth.

“Bothersome princes,” Woraug growled. Smoke curled from his mouth, dripping from between his teeth as if it were more liquid than gas.

The prince raised his sword and didn’t wait to issue a challenge before charging. Alianora leapt aside as Woraug lunged forward, his foreclaws easily batting away the great sword as his jaws snapped around the prince’s middle. The prince gave a short howl of pain and tried to bring the pummel of the sword down on Woraug’s snout. Woraug shook his head like a terrier dog that had caught hold of a weasel. The great sword flew from the prince’s grasp. The dragon opened his mouth and threw the prince to the ground in a great clang of metal. Alianora gasped to see small trickles of blood seep from rends in the armor. Sparks bounced between Woraug’s teeth and the smoke grew thicker.

“Leave,” Woraug said. His voice echoed from deep in his throat. “Leave my caves before all that’s left of you is molten steel.”

The prince groaned as he rolled over. With a few hasty, jerky movements, he stood and limped quickly away. Both Alianora and Woraug watched until the resounding creak-pling of damaged armor faded. Woraug huffed, sending sparks and smoke out in a choking plume.

“Pick up that sword and give it a polish. Put it in the first treasure room with the other non-enchanted weapons. The rack labeled _overcompensation_.” Woraug’s thin, scaly lips were twisted in what Alianora could only call amusement. It was downright unnerving. Woraug swiveled his neck to face her. “Princesses don’t get rescued by female knights.” He turned around and retreated back into his caves.

* * *

Alianora was scrubbing down the kitchens as she stewed over the people she had met since leaving the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh. It was strange. No one had ever had a problem with her preference in marriageable persons before. Oh, they had lamented over her inability to entice a wicked fairy to curse her christening (although that one was more Uncle Arthur’s fault), spin straw into gold, get a proper blessing from a beggar-turned-fairy in the woods, or walk in glass slippers without cracking the heel. But even if she wasn’t a very satisfactory princess, there had never been anything but love and support from her family.

She thought about her mother, and wished she were here to tuck into a warm bear hug. She thought about her father, and how he would probably would have given his best Kingly Glower to scare off the princes. She thought about Aunt Emintrude, and wondered if she would have clucked her tongue at Keredwel and Hallanna and confided in a not-so-discreet whisper that they weren’t worth an ounce of salt between them. She thought about Lance, and wished he were here just to talk with.

She scrubbed harder at a stubborn stain and fought off the prickle of angry tears. Why wasn’t it proper for a princess to marry another princess? Why shouldn’t her daydreams wander to being rescued by a fair knight with long, shining copper hair, full lips, and soft curves? One was supposed to marry for love and happiness. She’d always known with a firm certainty that she wouldn’t be happy with a man, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of them to put effort into a marriage when she couldn’t love him in that way.

Her vision blurred, and Alianora realized she was crying. With an aggravated huff, she threw down her rag and stood straight, staring at the smooth stone wall with her hands on her hips. She waited for the tears to subside and she could see properly again before taking a great, heaving breath. She shuddered on the exhale.

Crying would do her no good. Her family wasn’t here, and she would have to keep on with nothing more than her own determination. She would just have to endure Woraug’s sneers and the pinched smiles from the other princesses. She couldn’t change their behavior, and sooner or later a lady _would_ come to Mountains of Morning to rescue the princess of the dragon Woraug. Until then, she would be careful not to bring up nobles or knights of any gender. She would hold her tongue, smile politely, and get along with everyone until she was able to claim her own happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This will take a looong time to update. Be forewarned. I do have it thoroughly planned, and partially written out, but it may be a couple years before I get Chapters 2 and 3 polished off. I am notoriously slow.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit longer than I anticipated, but here it is. Actually, it grew a lot more than I thought, even after scrapping some scenes, and had to be cut up into smaller bits, which is why the chapter count increased.

Woraug and Alianora didn’t talk so much as Woraug occasionally gave her a list of things to do and she did them. Any other information Alianora learned from listening to Woraug talk to himself or to other dragons that happened to visit. Alianora had learned of both the Princesses Keredwel and Hallanna through such eavesdropping. It was also how she learned of the Princess Cimorene, who had, according to Woraug’s aggrieved growl, _volunteered_ to be a dragon’s princess.

The idea intrigued Alianora. A princess _volunteering_ to be taken by a dragon. She had apparently walked right into a cave filled with dragons and practically demanded it. It was certainly not proper princess behavior, and much more than a little brave. Alianora was keenly interested to go see this Cimorene as soon as propriety allowed. But she was also apprehensive to do so. She held herself back and waited until Keredwel came to round them all up for a formal visit. She didn’t want to immediately ruin her relationship with the new princess like she had done with Keredwel and Hallanna.

When Keredwel did finally appear, Alianora quickly changed from her work dress into one of her finer gowns. She straightened her circlet over her hair, smoothed the fall of satin, and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. She was going to do this first impression thing right. They met up with Hallanna at the mouth of Zareth’s caves before continuing on to Kazul’s.

The woman who greeted them was nothing like Alianora had expected, although much better for it.

“Welcome to the caves of the dragon Kazul,” the woman said shortly, as if they had interrupted something important and she was hanging on polite formality. “May I help you with anything?”

“We have made the perilous journey through the tunnels to see the Princess Cimorene, newly come to these caverns, to comfort her and together bemoan our sad and sorry fates,” Keredwel recited. Ah, so it was a practiced line.

Alianora looked the woman over. She was tall, taller than most women Alianroa had met, with long, black hair plaited down her back. She wore a handkerchief over her forehead and her plain dress was smudged with dust and dirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her bare forearms betrayed subtle muscle definition where her hands were planted on her hips. She didn’t look like a princess, except for the regal way she stood. It was a self-confidence born of knowing who one was in life.

She was the most beautiful woman Alianora had ever seen.

“Tell her we are here,” Keredwel continued, looking down her nose at the woman, which was quite a feat considering the woman was several inches taller than her.

“I’m Cimorene,” the woman said with that godsdamn attractive self-confidence. “I don’t need comforting, and I’m not particularly sad or sorry to be here, but if you'd like to come in and have some tea, you’re welcome to.” She nodded her head toward the recesses of the cave, probably in the general direction of the kitchen.

Alianora looked at Keredwel and Hallanna, gauging their reactions. Even as they both stood there with varying degrees of shock, Alianora knew Keredwel would follow protocol and accept Cimorene’s invitation. Alianora was suddenly thankful for Keredwel’s insistence on doing what was proper. She really wanted to get to know this unconventional princess better.

Keredwel recovered from Cimorene’s unexpected appearance and behavior, drawing herself back up. “Very well,” she said, with the air of trying to bring the tone back to familiar ground, “we will join you.”

In the quick journey to the kitchen, Kazul’s caves looked to be more expansive than any other Alianora had been in. “You certainly do have a lot of space,” she said without thinking, her mind on what Kazul’s status must be compared to Woraug (or Gornul or Zareth), and how much more work it must be to clean them. No wonder Cimorene’s dress was in such a state.

“Alianora,” Keredwel snapped at her. Ah, damn, she had gaffed already.

Cimorene frowned and ushered them into the spacious kitchen. She waved a hand at the table with a “do sit down” before turning away to set the kettle.

“I am remiss in my duties,” Keredwel said, taking advantage of Cimorene’s busy silence, “for I have not yet told you who we are.” She launched into her practiced introductions, waving a hand at herself, Hallanna, and Alianora in turn. “I am the Princess Keredwel of the Kingdom of Raxwel, now captive of the dread dragon Gornul. This is the Princess Hallanna of the Kingdom of Poranbuth, now captive of the dread dragon Zareth. And this is the Princess Alianora of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh, now prisoner of the dread dragon Woraug.” As they were all sitting down and therefore could not curtsey, Hallanna and Alianora nodded their heads politely.

“Pleased to meet you” Cimorene said, pointedly ignoring the tone Keredwel had set. “I am Princess Cimorene of the Kingdom of Linderwall, now princess of the dragon Kazul. What sort of tea would you like? I have blackberry, ginger, chamomile, and gunpowder green. I’m afraid I used the last of the lapsang souchong this morning.”

“Blackberry,” Keredwel answered for all of them. Alianora sighed regretfully as she accepted the proffered cup. She could fight a dragon for a cup of normal, green tea. Not Woraug, though. Perhaps one of the younger dragons.

Cimorene was altogether the most fascinating of princesses. Keredwel, in her usual manner, controlled the conversation with Hallanna adding her own thoughts in whenever Keredwel took a breath. Cimorene’s replies were unelaborate and short, spiced with a dry wit, and not at all what Alianora had become used to these past few months. It was almost like sitting at the dinner table during Winter’s Feast, when aunts and uncles and cousins threw clever barbs across the wine and roast vegetables. Except, of course, Cimorene threw the barbs, Keredwel remained impervious behind her shield of propriety, and Hallanna either ignored the subtlety or it all went over her head. Also per usual, Alianora couldn’t get a word in edgewise. It frustrated her more than ever because Keredwel’s chosen topics were predictably vapid and Alianora wanted to dig in and learn about Cimorene.

What had her life been like in Linderwall? What was her preferred tea? Why had she volunteered to be a dragon’s princess? What did she like to do in her spare time? Did she really enjoy working for Kazul?

For the first time, Alianora was disappointed when Keredwel decided the visit was over and stood to leave. So, for the first time, Alianora gathered her courage and consciously broke Keredwel’s precious propriety.

“I’ve left something in the kitchen,” she said when they had reached the mouth of the cave. Cimorene hadn’t bothered to show them out, something Alianora knew rankled Keredwel. Although everything about Cimorene probably rankled Keredwel.

Keredwel looked at her suspiciously before waving her hand in clear dismissal. “Go on then. We’ll wait for your return.”

“That’s all right,” Alianora said. She put on her most charming smile, mimicking Lance. “You can go on ahead. I can find my own way back to Woraug’s caves.”

Alianora watched the war occurring in Keredwel’s mind, between waiting for Alianora as protocol demanded and being polite in not causing an argument.

“Very well,” Keredwel said, finally. Alianora breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t wait for Keredwel to say anything more. She turned around at once and tried her best not to hurry too quickly away.

She found Cimorene in the kitchen, cleaning up after their visit. She was suddenly nervous, watching Cimorene’s back as the woman washed teacups and saucers. That hair really was rather lovely. She cleared her throat, hoping to find the words that had swiftly abandoned her.

Cimorene turned around at the noise. “Hello again,” she said. “Did you forget something?”

Words. Language. Vocabulary. Yes, right. “Not exactly.” Well, that was a start. “I mean, I told Keredwel I did, but actually I just wanted to get away from them for a while. I hope you don’t mind.” _Please don’t mind_, the small, hopeful part of Alianora’s mind said.

“I don’t mind at all as long as you don’t expect more hospitality. I have to get back to work on the library.”

_Victory!_ her mind crowed. Cimorene started to walk, and Alianora fell in pace with her.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Now that she had successfully started a conversation, she was going to do her level best to keep it up.

It had apparently been the right question, too. Cimorene’s whole being lit up as she explained in passionate, thorough detail about sorting through the library for magic textbooks and her investigation into fireproofing spells. Alianora felt a soft warmth settle in her chest as she listened. It was like listening to Lance describe in salacious detail his latest tournament or her mother talk her though different forms of needlework.

Well, that settled it. Alianora was simply going to have to offer her research assistance. She wasn’t any good with magic. She had never really taken to it the few times various family members had tried to teach her, but if it meant spending more time with Cimorene, then she would gladly give it a go.

* * *

That first visit with Cimorene stretched on for several hours. Alianora barely noticed the time fly by as they cleaned the library (it was larger by far than Woraug’s), talking the whole way through. Cimorene was exceedingly clever, and when she was interested in something her eyes would nearly glow with it, and her smile was devastatingly infectious. When Alianora talked, Cimorene actually listened, which was more than anyone else had done since Woraug had carried her away from home. Cimorene seemed to legitimately care about what Alianora said.

They shared their stories. How Cimorene had balked at an arranged marriage to Prince Therandil of Sathem-by-the-Mountains. How she’d promptly run away to be a dragon’s princess instead. Alianora talked about not being a satisfactory princess, about all the ways Aunt Ermintrude had tried to help—unsuccessfully—until finally it was arranged for Woraug to capture her.

Alianora was still cautious. Although Cimorene wasn’t what Keredwel considered a proper princess, Alianora now knew that not everyone, proper or not, shared her views on life. Avoiding talk of female knights turned out to be rather simple. Cimorene happily complained about her flood of princes without once inquiring deeper into Alianora’s lack thereof.

In the end, they did find a fireproofing spell, and Alianora helped Cimorene hunt down ingredients. By the time they’d scoured Kazul’s overlarge caves, Alianora’s stomach rumbled with the reminder it was hours past dinnertime. She was loath to end the day, but figured it was better to leave Cimorene in a good mood than risk overstaying her welcome. She bid her farewell with a copy of the spell folded in her dress pocket so that she could look for missing ingredients among Woraug’s caves.

* * *

Later that night, Alianora was curled in bed, one of her books closed and forgotten on her pillow. The oil lamp cast a hazy, warm glow over her chambers. It was enchanted to never run out of oil, which meant she could stay up indefinitely late to read without worrying about refilling it. It was dead useful, as she was hesitant to requisition Woraug for supplies and didn’t want to rely on borrowing from the other princesses.

Tonight, though, fire-haired knights couldn’t hold a candle to Cimorene. Alianora hadn’t been able to stop smiling all evening. It had been, without a doubt, the best day she’d had since becoming Woraug’s princess. Warmth still spread through her chest, and her heart gave a pleasant shudder whenever she remembered a particular thing Cimorene had said or the way her mouth quirked _just so_ when she was wryly amused. How she had grinned triumphantly when she had puzzled out the fireproofing spell.

From initial interest and fascination, a crush had quickly taken root and grown.

Alianora would not act on it. If she had learned one thing about Cimorene that day, it was that Cimorene would rather hunt down dragons than entertain notions of a relationship.

Well, crush or not, Cimorene was still the most entertaining person—human, dragon, or otherwise—in the whole of the Mountains of Morning. Alianora would take every chance available to be her friend. All she had to do was to keep her budding infatuation from becoming a problem. Perhaps, in time, the allure would fade on its own, and Alianora would again look forward to the day her knight came for her. In the meantime, she would enjoy Cimorene’s company for what it was.

* * *

The crush did not fade on its own. Instead, quite adverse to any sensibility and wish on Alianora’s part, it not only bloomed but _thrived_. Alianora was officially pining.

It wasn’t all her fault. Unknowingly—and frustratingly wonderfully—Cimorene fed the crush by simply being herself. When she talked about magic, or Latin, or swordplay, she got caught up with a passion that swept Alianora along for the ride. She was pragmatic, and practical, and achingly sensible. Alianora counted every time she made Cimorene laugh, a sweet sound that could be interrupted by a snort if Cimorene got caught unaware. And she was _strong_. She could lift swords with a practiced hand and carry towering stacks of books without concern. It was altogether unfair, as if the universe had contrived a woman specifically to Alianora’s tastes.

And they got on so well together. They might not share the same opinions, but that just meant they had rather healthy discussions that went on for hours and ended with them both smiling and a little wiser. They did share a similar sense of humor and often joked while they worked. Alianora drew on her experience of family Winter’s Feast to craft particularly ingenious remarks to combat Cimorene’s wit. Once, Alianora had said something apparently quite funny—she couldn’t remember what it was now—and they both collapsed in fits of laughter that refused to die down. Whenever one of them started to calm, the other would giggle and set them both off again. When they’d finally taped off, Alianora’s stomach hurt from the abuse and they were both crying.

Alianora visited as frequently as her schedule and propriety allowed, but not so frequent as to be overbearing. She smugly thought Keredwel would approve of her adherence to proper protocol, if Keredwel approved of anything Alianora did at all. It was, however, getting somewhat difficult to hide her growing attraction. She was, first and foremost, Cimorene’s friend, and Alianora didn’t want to change that. It helped that romance was the last thing on Cimorene’s mind. When Alianora did trip up and accidently let something slip (which happened far more often than Alianora would like), Cimorene just accepted it as part of Alianora’s stumbling friendship. Cimorene near single-mindedly talked about the fireproofing spell, with some detours into cooking, cleaning, Therandil, and the other annoying princes. She remained blessedly ignorant of Alianora’s not-so-subtle pining. Thank the gods that for all her cleverness, Cimorene was rather a bit dense.

* * *

One of the things Alianora liked about visiting Cimorene was that neither of them expected the other to stand on ceremony. Whenever Alianora came around, she could just shout from the entrance and Cimorene would shout back from wherever she was from, thereby inviting Alianora to find her in the comfortable recesses of Kazul’s caves. Today, like most days, Cimorene was in the kitchen.

“You’re always in the kitchen,” Alianora said when she had stepped into the cavern in question. She rolled her eyes but smiled fondly. “Or the library. Don’t you ever do anything but cook and read?” Not that Alianora could say much on the latter. The enchanted oil lamp was turning out to be detrimental for her sleeping habits.

Cimorene grinned at Alianora’s appearance. “Look at this,” she said in lieu of a greeting. She held out a piece of paper with large, even script. “Do you think it’s clear enough?”

Alianora took it, careful of the still-drying ink. “_Warning: This jar contains a djinn who will kill you if you let him out too soon. Do not open until at least one hundred and five years after the date when the Citadel of the Yellow Giant was destroyed_.” Alianora paused while she worked out the mental math. “That’s . . . eighty-four years from now,” she said. “It seems clear to me.” She looked down at the table where a bottle sat innocuously, suddenly apprehensive of what was inside.

“Maybe I ought to show it to Hallanna and see what she says,” Cimorene said, frowning. “I wouldn’t want anyone getting into trouble by accident, just because I didn’t make it plain.”

“It’s plain,” Alianora assured her, more concerned with Cimorene’s cavalier attitude about a supposedly deadly djinn bottle sitting not two feet away. “Cimorene, what on earth have you been doing? How do you know there’s a djinn in this bottle?”

“Therandil,” Cimorene scowled before launching into the story of lead stoppers and an overeager prince. “I think I’ve gotten rid of him for good,” she said at the end, looking self-satisfied. “I sent him off to rescue Keredwel.”

“You did?” Alianora blinked in surprise. They’d talked before about Cimorene sending her unwanted princes to other princesses in the mountains, but as far as she knew, Cimorene hadn’t actually done it. “What if he doesn’t beat Gornul?”

“Oh, he’ll win.” Cimorene’s grin was reminiscent of cats and canaries. “The djinn gave him a wish, and he wished to defeat a dragon.” Cimorene’s smile slipped. “I suppose I ought to have sent him to rescue you, but . . .” She trailed off, looking apologetic.

“That's quite all right,” Alianora said quickly. She shuddered at the thought of trying to explain to another prince, much less Therandil, about not being able to marry him. Especially one that was riding high on the certainty of defeating a dragon. “Getting rid of Keredwel will help a lot. And after everything you’ve told me about Therandil,” _particularly thick when it comes to princesses who don’t want to be rescued by princes_, “I don’t think I’d want to have him rescue me.”

Cimorene nodded, her smile reappearing in full volume. “That’s what I thought. Oh,” she brightened with that familiar passion, “and I got the djinn to give me some powdered hens’ teeth, so we can finally try that fireproofing spell.”

They spent the next hour collecting the ingredients in the kitchen and preparing for the spell. Alianora let Cimorene do the actual spell work—which looked more like a potion at the start—while she cut and ground up ingredients as needed. Cimorene had talked before about her limited magic lessons in Linderwall, and that she had been practicing a little since settling in Kazul’s caves. Alianora trusted Cimorene’s skill more than her own and didn’t want to accidentally muck it up. She’d rather like to keep un-burned, thanks.

As it turned out, Alianora was better at free-handing circles than Cimorene. They moved to an empty cavern, some sort of unused reception room, where there was more space to work. Alianora regarded the stone floor, then measured and sketched as close to a perfect circle as she could with a feather-tip dipped in the spell solution. Next was a star inside the circle; she marked out an even six points before drawing out smooth lines to connect them. There were other small designs that needed to be added between and inside specific star points. Alianora kept checking the image in the spell book to make sure she had the diagram down as close as possible.

When the diagram was done, they both carefully stepped into the center of the star. Alianora held her breath as Cimorene’s arm brushed against hers in the small space. Now was not the time to be distracted by the warmth of her crush. Cimorene again took the lead, using the feather and the remaining spell solution to sprinkle drops on Alianora’s hair, swipe at her forehead, and draw a circle (more like a wobbly oval) on her palm. Cimorene passed the feather to Alianora so she could repeat the process on Cimorene. Now was _really_ not the time to be distracted by how close they were.

“Close your eyes,” Cimorene instructed when she set down the feather and nearly empty bowl of spell solution outside of the diagram. Alianora did as she was told and firmly concentrated on not thinking about how Cimorene’s work-calloused hand had cradled hers when she’d drawn the circle on her palm. She was thoroughly unsuccessful.

“Power of water, wind and earth,” Cimorene recited. Her voice carried an authority that made Alianora shiver. “Turn the fire back to its birth / Raise the spell to shield the flame / By the power that we have tamed.” A peculiar sensation tricked down the back of Alianora’s neck. Like cold wind turned liquid. It made her fingers tingle and the hair on her arms stand on end.

“Did it work?” Alianora asked when the sensation died out. She cautiously opened one eye to look at Cimorene.

“Well, something happened. We both felt it,” Cimorene said. “And your hair and forehead don’t have brown gunk on them anymore.”

Alianora opened her other eye to study Cimorene fully. “Neither do yours. What does that mean?”

“It means,” Cimorene said, excitement flashing in her grin, “we go back to the kitchen and test it.” She bent over and picked up the feather and bowl. “We’ll clean up later. Come on.”

Alianora followed Cimorene back to the kitchen. Cimorene dumped the bowl into the sink with their other dishes and utensils they had used for the preparation. She pulled a candle and matchbox down from one of the cupboards. She set the candle on the kitchen table and lit it. She retrieved the bag of feverfew and passed it along to Alianora.

“Power of water, wind and earth / Turn the fire back to its birth,” they recited, throwing a pinch of the herb into the air. Cimorene tested the spell first, sticking her hand confidently over the candle flame. When nothing happened, Alianora plucked up the courage to put a finger out, then slowly her whole hand. There was a phantom sensation of tickling, like the fire was a physical thing and not just the glow of heat.

“How long does the spell last?” she said. She turned her hand over and over in the flame, wondering at the prickle of sensation. It was quite pleasant.

“I’m not sure, exactly,” Cimorene said. “At least an hour, but I’ll have to do some tests to pin it down beyond that. I hope Kazul gets back soon. I want to see if it works with dragon fire.”

Alianora balked, her hand accidentally putting out the candle. “You’re going to have Kazul breathe fire at you, just to see if the spell works?” For the first time, she wasn’t entirely too fond of Cimorene’s academic determination. “What if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll talk to Kazul,” Cimorene said, waving away the fact that if the spell _didn’t_ work she would be _terribly burned_, “and we’ll go see Morwen, and the three of us will try to figure out what to change to make the spell work for dragon fire, too. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to stand in front of Kazul and have her breathe fire at me. I’ll just stick out a finger, the way we did with the candle.” She huffed, crossing her arms, looking a little petulant. “The whole point of trying this spell was to make ourselves immune to dragon fire. If it doesn’t work, I don’t want to find out for the first time when one of Kazul’s guests gets mad and breathes fire at me because he doesn’t like the way I cooked his cherries jubilee.”

“That’s actually a good point,” Alianora said slowly. She still wanted to argue but anything further was stopped when Kazul poked her head into the kitchen. Alianora had met the dragon before, although only briefly. Kazul seemed to be around more often than Woraug was and didn’t ignore her princess or the guests thereof. She frequently paused to greet Alianora when she passed by during Alianora’s visits. She never stayed to chat, letting the princesses get on with themselves, but Alianora had cultivated a high opinion of Kazul.

“Ah, Kazul,” Cimorene said, grinning again. “Would you mind helping us?” She launched into an explanation of the fireproofing spell, and the candle test they had already performed.

“She wants to test it on dragon fire,” Alianora broke in, throwing a disapproving glance at Cimorene before addressing Kazul. “She wants to get herself burned.” Kazul gave Alianora a Look, the dragon’s eyes gleaming with . . . _something_. Dragon faces were so hard to read emotions off of, and it wasn’t as if she got a lot of practice at it. Lately, Woraug cycled between irritation and indifference.

“Princess Alianora has a point,” Kazul said in her rumbling voice. “Dragon fire is extremely dangerous to just throw around willy-nilly.” Ah, good, an ally against Cimorene’s bullheadedness.

“Here, look,” Cimorene said with exasperation. She lit the candle again and thrust her arm out over it, then moved on to a larger torch set in bracket on the wall, then to the kitchen stove. For all three, her arm and the sleeve of her dress remained unsinged and unburned. “See? The spell works. And here,” she pulled open the spell book and pointed out the heading, reading aloud, “_Being a Spell for the Resisting of Heat and Flames of All Kinds, in Particular Those Which Are the Product of Magical Beasts_.” She set the book down. “The spell itself says it’s supposed to work for magical beasts, which includes dragons. And I’d rather know now, in a controlled environment, than risk getting burned on accident.”

Kazul and Alianora looked at each other, and Alianora sighed. Kazul rumbled something that might have been a considering hum.

“All right,” Kazul said. Alianora had the sense she was agreeing reluctantly. “But we’ll do it in stages. I don’t want to blast off at full heat if the spell is only powerful enough to handle a little bit of dragon fire.”

Cimorene nodded, satisfied at getting her way. They moved to the larger cavern they had originally cast the spell in, so that Kazul would have room to breathe without endangering furniture. Alianora backed against the wall next to Kazul. Away from the line of fire, as it were. Cimorene threw more feverfew and recited the spell again, just in case.

It was the most nerve-wracking thing Alianora had ever seen. Kazul was careful, narrowing her fire into a thin stream that slipped between her teeth. Alianora was impressed at Kazul’s level of control. She doubted Woraug had such skill. Cimorene stood close enough to the fire to drop a hand in. As Kazul slowly increased the intensity, the color changed from dull red to bright orange, and Cimorene’s hand remained unburned. The heat built in the room, cloying and almost suffocating. When Kazul’s fire was blinding white, Cimorene stepped fully into the flame. Alianora’s heart leapt in fear and she could hear Cimorene’s triumphant, satisfied laugh.

Finally, _finally_, Kazul tapered off and closed her mouth, smoke streaming from her nostrils as the fire died. Alianora let out the breath she’d been holding and anxiously stepped up to Cimorene to look her over. Not even a singed thread.

“There!” Cimorene said, throwing her arms out, her grin wide. “Now we know it works. Aren’t you glad?”

“All right, yes, I’m glad,” Alianora said. Her heart thudded double-time, partly from relief and partly from attraction. It annoyed her that her traitorous crush _liked_ Cimorene’s risk-taking. “And I hope I never have to watch anything like that again as long as I live.”

Kazul Looked at Alianora again, huffed, and excused herself in order to rest and cool down. Alianora helped Cimorene clean up the diagram on the cavern floor, then wash the dishes they had used. They talked as they did so, and eventually Alianora relaxed into the familiar lull of conversation.

When Alianora mentioned how nice working for Kazul seemed to be, Cimorene looked as if she had just realized something. “I’m sorry for never visiting you in Woraug’s caves. It’s not very polite to make you come over here all the time and then clean with me on top of that.”

“That’s quite all right,” Alianora said. A warmth spread through her chest, and she had to stamp down her crush from basking in the attention. “I don’t think you’d much like Woraug’s caves, and he doesn’t really like visitors—prince, princess, or otherwise. Besides, Kazul’s caves are much too large for one princess to handle. I don’t mind at all helping you clean them.”

When it was time to leave, Cimorene gave Alianora a small pouch of feverfew and insisted Alianora repeat the couplet several times until she was satisfied Alianora knew it by heart. Alianora had to laugh at Cimorene’s insistence of Alianora’s safety when she had been so blasé about her own. Cimorene’s protectiveness certainly didn’t help the pining.


End file.
